The Empty Grave
by Ankhesanamun
Summary: A lone person stands before a grave and remembers.


**So this is kinda angsty but I was in that sort of mood. Anyway enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: All hail the great and mighty Fox who own Bones. Lil Buggers could share but what can you do? Ah well. Sigh.**

* * *

The grave was empty.

As I stood before the gravestone, my eyes automatically began to trace the engraved lettering, following the lines of words I had read so many times before; a date of birth and a date of estimated death, lying beneath the carefully inscribed name. It was ironic in the cruellest manner, that someone who had fought so hard to bring identity and closure to those who had been left unnamed and lost had also now joined those ranks of the unknown. The authorities had searched for the body for months, desperate to find any trace but still no evidence had been found of what had really happened. As time had continued to pass and leads had grown cold, it had become harder to keep the investigation going beyond merely keeping the file open and even with all of the Jeffersonian and even some of the FBI that was becoming harder.

The grave was empty.

Eventually the family had decided that with or without the body, a funeral would be held and a casket, holding a single photograph in place of the body, had been buried. The ceremony had been beautiful, and although the grave remained devoid of a body, I had still felt a link to this grave and to the lost soul belonging to it, being forged even as they lowered the casket into the frost covered earth. It had become a place of tranquillity and inspiration to me, as I celebrated the memories of life whilst mourning those moments that were lost, the existence that was cut short.

A sigh suddenly interrupted my bittersweet musings and I looked down to where a young boy stood. His golden curls glinted in the sun as he moved slowly forward, before he knelt down in front of the marble gravestone. His fingers gradually began to trace the same words etched into the marble that I had earlier read. His misery and grief were evident in his every gesture, his young mind still unable to process much beyond the fact that such an important person in his life had been taken from him. His happy and joy-filled memories had originally been useless against the grief that had threatened to consume him in the early days of the investigation but as time passed, his pain had lessened and his happier memories had allowed him to begin to move on with his life. As I continued to stand there, I heard him begin muttering to the gravestone, telling stories about his day, about how Hodgins had taught him about the scarab beetle and how cool it was. Hearing that, I chuckled slightly. A little boy's interest in slimy things had gradually developed over the years into a genuine fascination with the creatures, delighting Hodgins, who had begun teaching him everything he knew.

Another sigh and a gentle sob alerted me to the fact that we were no longer alone and I quickly scanned the surrounding area, knowing who I would find before I even spotted the lone figure beneath the trees.

Although she regularly visited the graveyard, it was rare that she would come any closer than where she was currently standing. I knew that she had once claimed that she believed that there was nothing left of the person after they had died but their bones, but her continued visits showed that she too felt the connection and presence that seemed to exist here.

As the breeze whispered through the trees, I sighed, fancying that I could still hear his voice, whilst knowing that no amount of wishing would make it true. Lifting my head, I once again stared at her, my eyes locking with hers, a conversation without words, an exchange of comfort that we both desperately needed. I smiled slightly, before allowing my gaze to move down to where her hand was resting gently on her rounded belly and then to Parker who was still telling his dad about his day, both reminders that life whether we liked it or not did move on. I lifted my hand and brushed back my own blonde curls, the breeze having shaken them loose and once again looked down at the empty grave.

* * *

_Seeley Booth_

_Born 16th May 1971- Died 22nd January 2012._

_Beloved Son, Husband and Father_

_Hero_

_Missed Always_

* * *

**Hmm so this just wouldn't leave me alone till I wrote it down. So I did. lol. So what do you think? Review please. A xxxxxxx**


End file.
